Almost reformed outlaw turned lawyer

raisie millen. thirty seven. (almost) a former criminal entrepreneur. current homicide assistant district attorney. blood red hair. previous (barely) alcohol and drug addict.

[faerydragon]

[outlaw-lawyer]

“I disagree.” Beau stated as he threw the drink back. Slowly but surely the amber liquid was beginning to have a greater effect on him. His dull eyes were replaced with an alcohol-induced glitter and his chiseled features were aglow with the relaxation the drink brought him. “Undressing is far more intimate than people like to believe. That’s the moment when the trust presents itself. The quicker that part is over, the better.” He explained. “Besides, the faster I get her clothes off, the longer we can take and the better chance she has at achieving an orgasm or two. It’s a benefit to you women, really.” Though Beau was by no means a boaster, sex was one of two things he knew he had a talent for. Whether it was because he held a certain competitiveness when it came to genuinely wanting a woman climax— the action itself serving to stroke his ego— or because he found her to be sexiest when she moaned his name, Beau made an effort to make the sex enjoyable for both parties. And he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. He raised an eyebrow as a grin spread across his features. “Seems like we’ve found ourselves a freak.” He mused.

Beau let out a laugh as she spoke. He wished it had been that easy. “Actually, it’s a little more pathetic than that— on my part, in reality.” He admitted. “My first mistake was letting her convince me to go home with her. My second was staying over.” He downed the rest of his drink. “Long story short, I ended up in a six month long relationship with a woman because of a picture she had on her nightstand of her six year old self. Every time I wanted to break up with her, I thought of that little girl and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t crush that innocence.” Beau added with a hint of disgust. Here he was— a 6′2″ Navy SEAL with an ego liken to Ares— and he hadn’t had the decency or courage to break up with a girl over some two decade old picture. It was pathetic. He let out a small sigh and shot her a grin. “Don’t worry, though.” He assured her. “I managed to get her to break up with me and learned a few valuables lesson because of it.”

He snorted down a scoff. “I’m sure I could’ve managed just fine without your help.” As the words left his lips, an idea lodged itself into his mind and the soldier leaned closer. “Actually,” He began slowly. “You know what I think?” He paused for a moment as he tilted his head, looking directly into her brightly colored eyes. “I think you saw me and couldn’t help yourself. Flattering, really. In fact, if you didn’t give off an air of ‘not interested’ I might even try my hand.” Beau moved away. He was teasing her— for the most part— but that didn’t stop him from surveying her body once more, making no attempt to hide his observations. “Shame.” Though Beau enjoyed pushing someone’s limits ever so slightly, he knew better than to push beyond that. At the moment, he was merely having fun, curious to see what witty remark she’d throw back at him for it.

“So they say.” He returned proudly. Beau’s military service was something he was immensely proud of— even more so than his looks. It was the one thing he had accomplished all on his own with no one else to do it for him. It was Beau who spent hours and hours performing exhausting workouts that affected him mentally just as much as they did physically. It was he who was sent to Afghanistan and felt what it was like to graze death. And it was he who had attended the Arlington funerals of many a friend— men whose deaths he’d watched with his own eyes just as he watched their graves being lowered into the ground. Therefore, Beau felt entitled to his pride. Much like he’d earned his medals and position, he had earned the ability to recognize his own accomplishments as well.

“A woman of the law.” He mused. “And from New York of all places.” Looking at her, her career made sense. She carried herself with the control and confidence of a woman who knew her worth like the back of her hand and could recite it if prompted. “Believe me, you’ve your entry to the town clear.” As he watched her finish off the drink, Beau vaguely realized just how many she’d had and how quickly she emptied them. Distracted by her next statement, though, he failed to register it long enough to make a comment. Instead, he offered her an amused expression. “My pleasure.” He returned, unaffected by her tone. Her question that proceeded was one he found himself pondering often. City-born, it was a wonder how Beau had found himself in Northpoint and decided to stay there. “It’s the change of pace you need when you come back from war.” He shrugged finally. “In a town like Northpoint, there’s less things to trigger you and after experiencing so much chaos in a relatively short amount of time, a slower speed is welcomed.” Beau threw her a nod. “And you? How’d you find yourself in a place like Northpoint?”

His disagreement had her raising another brow; for it wasn’t often that she came across a man who didn’t agree with her idea of good foreplay. “Oh?” She queried as a fingertip danced around the top of her glass and her head tipped slightly. His declaration that undressing was too intimate for his liking was something she found incredibly interesting, and although she suspected it would be considered socially inappropriate to probe further, well, social constraints weren’t something she adhered to particularly well. “I’m beginning to think we have had very different sexual experiences. I wouldn’t say I trust anyone when I undress in front of them, I know what’s under this dress and if he doesn’t like it – well the joke is truly on him. Especially when there’s edible body paint involved.” Her words were followed by a wink; dark heavy lashes kissing the top of her cheek momentarily. His justification had a smirk forming across the dark colour of her plump lips. “Oh, well if its a benefit to us women, who am I to complain?” His apparent dedication to making sure his partners managed at least one climax during their encounter was oddly refreshing, and although she wouldn’t admit it, she admired him for it.

The laugh that left her mouth was uncontainable, spreading quietly across her stomach and leaving her parted lips in true amusement as her head fell back and silky red locks tickled her neck. “How do you accidentally stumble into a six month relationship? You really misunderstood the term one-night stand.” She leant back a little on her chair with a smirk, still entirely too amused by his confession. He was a tall, muscular man with a steel like face and eyes that didn’t betray the apparent softness that hid behind his exterior. “Who would have thought that underneath this burly exterior of yours that there was a soft heart that takes six months to break up with a girl?” She knew she was having far too much fun with this information, for the most part because it was something she wouldn’t have guessed about him and while she hated the thought of relationships or other peoples childhood photos on nightstands, the fact that he couldn’t bear the thought of breaking up with her warmed her heart slightly.

Another laugh trickled from her lips as she took a sip from the glass in front of her, savoring the all-too familiar taste of cold vodka on her tongue. She was well over six glasses in now and although it wasn’t uncommon for her to finish most of a bottle on an average night, she was beginning to recognize the familiar calming warmth in the pit of her stomach. “I don’t know if you could have after that little confession,” of course she was teasing him now, the playful smile tugging at her lips. Leaning forward slightly, she lowered her voice and glanced conspiratorially over at the blonde. “Have you considered it might not be a strong Navy SEAL that she’s looking for, but rather a leggy redheaded lawyer?” Her question was followed by a wink as she leant back and took another long drink from the glass beside her.

Raising a brow as he leant in a little closer, Raisie let a smile play at her lips. Her eyes met his, challenging the strong color of his irises as she leant in to match his movements. “You’re absolutely right, I saw you sitting here and I just fell over myself with need.” She fluttered eyelashes, teeth biting down on her bottom lip for a moment before a laugh escaped her. Tapping a long nail on the bar top, her eyes met his again. “I don’t think you’d know what hit you if you ‘tried your hand’. I’d be willing to bet I’d be unlike any woman you’ve taken home before.” There was another wink as large blue eyes danced with amusement. She was enjoying the freedom to tease him without offending him.

The phrase ‘a woman of the law’ made her strangely uncomfortable, although she supposed that could now be considered one of her titles. “I promise I’m not half as bland as the lawyer stereotype.” Raisie sat and listened quietly as the man in front of her told her his reasoning for being holed up in such a small town in the middle of no where. It was surprisingly truthful and the redhead admired his ability to be so honest with someone he’d just met. She nodded her head as he spoke, understanding not the trauma of war, but the need for somewhere quiet after such a chaotic life. “It’s calming to be in such a still town, especially if you’ve been surrounded by nothing but chaos.”

When the question was turned back on her, the redhead was unsure how to answer. Did she admit to her past, at least the most recent reason for relocating to a new city? To the addiction and the man who had overdosed beside her after a particularly brutal weekend bender. Opting for the safer route, the one that divulged less about her shortcomings, Raisie leaned back slightly and considered her answer. “I needed out of a very toxic lifestyle, and went for something as contrary to New York as possible. I had a very short stint here as a teenager and figured it was my best bet.” Her words were followed by a shrug, inwardly surprised at how easily such personal yet vague information had flowed from her. Raisie wasn’t one to share much about her life to people she knew, let alone those she had just met.

“Although I must say, the nightlife leaves a lot to be desired. Is this the most common bar here?”

[outlaw-lawyer]

[outlaw-lawyer]

His grin broadened. “Precisely.” He agreed. “That’s why I’m making a special effort tonight to make sure Miss Teen USA over there won’t end up on that list.” Following her gaze back to the blonde, Beau shrugged in agreement. “That’s part of the reason she caught my eye. Efficiency is key and though I do like a woman who’s a bit more dressed up than the others, I’d rather not spend five minutes trying to take her clothes off. Takes away from the passion and heat of the moment.” For Beau, removing a woman’s clothes was one of the most intimate parts about sex. It wasn’t so much that she was naked per se but because at that moment, she displayed a certain trust— which made him want to get it over with as quickly as possible. Why? Because with sluggishness came increased intimacy, something that ultimately opened the door to making love and Beau wanted sex.

When he used to attend therapy, many therapists had pondered Beau’s aversion to such feelings. Some claimed it stemmed from his mother’s death while others were sure it was a result of his father’s lack of affection. And yet, some said it was because of war and the things he’d seen. If he was honest with himself, though, Beau would say it was all three. Having never known a mother’s love, he’d been reared without the tenderness of her embrace or the reassurance that it was all right to show emotion. Added that his father was a tough, career military man, Beau had never quite learned how to show his emotions and eventually ended up steering clear of things that may cause such a display. And finally, war. Being in such an environment, he was forced to shut off his feelings in order to survive. It was only a shame that he never quite opened them back up again.

“You may be right but I have one strict rule: I never go to a woman’s house. I don’t give a fuck if it’s two seconds away. I’d rather leave with blue balls than go.” He explained. There were many reasons as to why Beau refused to go over to a woman’s house. The main one, however, was because of an experience he’d had which ended up landing him in a relationship for six months. Since then, Beau abided by his rule without question. Besides, at least when he took home a woman, he was free to stay in bed as long as he liked. Raising an eyebrow at her remark, Beau caught the look in her eye. Amusement growing, a smile ghosted his lips. “I agree. Like they say, it’s all about the chase.” Eyes traveling down her body, Beau wondered for a moment how difficult she’d be to convince. Most likely ten times harder, he decided.

“So I’ve been told.” He shot back, finishing off the rest of his drink. Catching the bartender as he came around, Beau ordered another before returning his attention to the woman beside him. “Ah, but you see, I like to think I’m fairly well versed in reading people. And, assuming I read you correctly, you aren’t much for small talk which makes me wonder why you’ve given me the honor of engaging you in conversation?” Beau asked, eyes glittering with confidence. Of course, he wasn’t an idiot. He had picked up on what she was doing almost instantly. After all, the way she seemed to make a point of regarding him flippantly was more than enough to prove it. Still, that didn’t stop him from having a little fun. God knows it might be the only challenge he had for the rest of the night. “But suit yourself.” He relented, sending her a wink.

Picking up his freshly made drink, Beau brought it to his lips. The alcohol felt cool as it slithered down his throat. It was times like these when he realized how much he’d missed a well-made drink. He set the glass down just as she poised her question. Crossing his arms, he gave her a smirk. “Ready to Lead, Ready to Follow, Never Quit.” He quoted. “I’m surprised you didn’t guess it already. Your perception skills have proven to be impressive. I’m flattered I’ve managed to maintain some air of mystery, though.” Beau nodded in her direction. “And you? I mean, you’re a gorgeous woman but I’m willing to bet you aren’t the average Cosmopolitan contributor.” He rested his chin on his hand momentarily. “Instead, I’m guessing you’re either military as well or involved in some type of law enforcement. Maybe even a CFO, if we’re making reaches here.”

His comment on efficiency had her raising a brow high over bright cerulean eyes in amusement. She flickered her gaze back to the young leggy blonde and regarded her for a moment. Raisie could see the appeal realistically. With her current heels on, the blonde would stand at Raisie’s bare-foot height; short enough without shoes that she could be dominated easily, although somehow her legs managed to look impressively lean and long under the restraints of her short, tight dress. The blonde hair was amusingly common, but her face was pretty and young enough that it should have been carded when she approached the bar. Gaze back on the man beside her, she shrugged a shoulder with disinterest. “Getting undressed is half the fun,” she decided rather bluntly. “I don’t think you’ve ever had the right woman strip for you.” Her words were followed by a confident smirk and then by another train of thought. “And not the kind of ‘I’m baring my soul to you’ strip, but the ‘lets do shots out of my naval’ or the ‘I’ve got body chocolate in the cupboard’ kind of strip.” For the most part, the redhead was relatively thankful she was a woman. It wasn’t often she came across a man that wanted something more than sex and if she did, she fled as quickly as she came.

Readjusting herself on the chair, Raisie’s gaze fell to the glass in front of her for a moment as she listened to him talk. There was a brief flicker of concern run through her mind at the thought of falling back into the void of addiction, but it was fleeting enough that it didn’t trickle onto her features. Finishing off the remnants of her glass, the lawyer tapped long nails on the bar absentmindedly. His absolute refusal at the thought of entering a woman’s house was interesting, and she couldn’t help but ponder on the reason. Although she’d entered the bar with the soul purpose of drinking until she couldn’t think logically, the man beside her had managed to peak her interest. “Oh?” She questioned, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Traumatic experience?” Tipping her head slightly with a playful grin, Raisie continued. “Did she still live with her parents?” The lack of a filter she had outside of a professional setting was astounding, but it also wasn’t something she was ready to apologize for. When his eyes burned a trail down her frame, she decided she couldn’t have been too insulting.

With the bartender in front of her and her companion, Raisie ordered herself another drink and moved slightly in her seat. Crossing one leg over the other, she brushed out the tight material that was edging up her mid-thigh, turning enough in her seat that she no longer had to twist her head to look at him while he spoke. He asked why she’d bothered engaging him in conversation and it was a decidedly fair question given his correct assumption that she didn’t often involve herself in small talk. For a brief second, she wondered whether she was lonely. It had been a long time since she’d spoken to anyone outside of work. Her family was considerably non-existent, and while she had used a casual fuck-buddy cop to track down the location of her sisters and parents, she’d done little with the information. Deciding it had little to do with loneliness and more to do with the lack of good-looking men in the small town, she gave an indifferent shrug and a sure smirk. “What can I say, I saw the way you shamelessly checking out the blonde as soon as I walked in and was concerned you might need a little help. I’m not one to stand in the way of a good one-night stand.”

Raising another brow as she downed another few mouthfuls from the fresh glass, Raisie nodded. “Navy Seal, how impressive.” She didn’t let it show across her features, but the redhead couldn’t help the slight twist in her stomach, like the vodka that had pooled there was doing the electric slide. Although she was currently a respectable – for the most part – lawyer, it was hard to ignore her less than favorable past, considering it hadn’t been all that long ago. While she’d worked with a few police officers since, she’d quickly learnt she was safe with them considering their often surprisingly poor perceptional skills, but something told her it wasn’t a problem the man in front of her faced. It was unnerving to say the least, but she was too reckless to consider the implications staying could have. Instead she let her head fall back at the Cosmopolitan comment, silky red tresses tickling her neck as a melodic laughter trickled from her dark plum lips. Anyone that knew Raisie – although that list was strikingly small – understood that she was as far from an average woman as she could muster. From red hair and fierce demeanor to her criminal history and disinterest in relationships, she was as far from normal as could be.

His guess of a military background on her part wasn’t exactly laughable, considering she had undertaken similar training, albeit for a different side. Although it wasn’t something she was about to announce, or something that would be guessable at first glance. Instead she smiled a bright and strong smile, white teeth piercing a dark bottom lip in amusement as her fingers wrapped around her glass. “You almost got there,” she said with a hint of laughter. “I was an EADA in New York. In case it isn’t already glaringly obvious, I haven’t been in this town long.” She finished the last of her drink and sat back for a moment in thought. “I’m so thankful I meet your standards of a gorgeous woman though, it’s a relief, really.” Amused sarcasm laced her words, and she gave the man beside her a grin followed by a wink. “What’s a Navy Seal doing in a town this small?”

[outlaw-lawyer]

Vincent had been called in to take over a shift for one of his co workers. It wasn’t unusual do to the fact a lot of them had a habit of pulling a disappearing act every so often. He wasn’t really innocent of it himself do to his other profession. He has come in surprised to see that one of them had been added back on to the schedule. That particular one had been off for a few months now. He wondered how long that would last till they disappeared again. Sometimes he question if he should do the same - disappear and look up a few clients that would help keep him busy.Setting down roots was good but boring.

After he was done in the break room he came out to make sure he had everything he need. Heading down to the basement to restock everything he needed, make sure the taps were full and working, and bring up any cases he may need. He new he was probably one of the few workers that made sure everything was ready before their shift - one of the few that were actually still around. It took an hour before he was sure that everything was in order. He had left the door open for a few of the regulars to make their way in and relax before he got to serving them. Work at the sailor was pretty petty much the same day in and day out.

Time went by relatively slowly as hours passed with Vinny talking to a few patrons and making his rounds. He hated the simple life but enjoyed the company every now and then. One of the reasons he constantly picked bar tending as his cover was the simple fact everyone came in to forget for a while. Sure people shared bits and pieces of their life but, more or less everyone just came for the company and liked minds. A good bar was a place a business man and a fast food worker could coexist without hostilities, or anyone looking down on the other. Nice and simple for the most part. Of course there are those that worry about class and such but, that was more a problem for the city than a small town like this.

The bartender was expecting everything to run simply and smoothly as it had ever other night he was in. What he didn’t expect was a familiar red head taking a seat at the edge of the bar and eyeing him. Although no one worried about class in this town he hadn’t expected someone he knew full well to present her self as high as possible in a place like this. Then again if she was still into the same things she had been when he last saw her, then this was a good place to do a little business. Especially with so many people looking to collect on the bounty on Dev, they’d have to get their guns from somewhere.

He approached the red head the same as he would anyone else at the bar. “I don’t remember asking for any new shipments this month” He greeted with a smile. Truth was he hadn’t need to buy any new weapons in a while. He had enough stock piled to last him for a while. Then again that was mostly do to him preferring the stealthy approach to most jobs.

As far as Raisie was concerned, her first three weeks in her new city had been enough time wasted sober. The vibrant redhead had never been one to adhere to societies expectations, the first ten years or so of her adult life having been spent on the wrong side of the law – and never facing those consequences – that when it came to her drug and alcohol consumption, it was no surprise that, of course, she felt the same way. There were too many aspects of her life that lacked normality for her to fit into the same category as every other thirty-something woman with a law degree, and if that meant every now and then she conclude her closing argument on the tail end of a three day bender, then so be it. It wasn’t professional, and Raisie understood well enough that it risked a career she’d fought hard to build after leaving a life of crime behind, but she couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop. Sometimes, she pondered on whether she was a self-destructive personality, if there was a part of her that missed the luxury of her criminal life, missed being in charge of herself and the adrenaline that coursed through her veins every time she heard the shot of a gun pointed in her general direction.

It was apparent that some things didn’t change, as she stepped out of her professional attire and into something that wasn’t necessarily more comfortable rather than more her. The soft black material finished at her knees, skin tight and strapless. It was rounded at the swell of her breasts, dipping low in between her cleavage in a soft m-shape. Paired with a set of strikingly tall black heels and straight ruby hair that fell above her shoulders, Raisie checked her appearance in the mirror before exiting her apartment. She missed these outfits, sharp and intimidating with an icy cruel expression to boot. In her time as an arms dealer and freelance contractor, Raisie had been feared and revered and had been known simply by the pseudonym Red. It had been a long time since she’d stepped from her alias and back into the real world, sitting the bar exam and pursuing an average life. And it had turned out to be just that, entirely average.

Arriving at the bar on the outskirts of the city center, the one she’d visited a few times since that first night, she walked through the door with the same precision and purpose she’d always held. Raisie let blue eyes scan her environment before approaching the bar and setting herself on one of the stools, long nails tapping on the solid wood of the counter as she waited for the bartender to turn around. When he did and her eyes had a chance to flicker across his face, she was undoubtedly surprised but managed to keep it from her expression. He seemed amused to see her to say the least, and she raised a manicured brow and sat up a little straighter in order to maintain her fierce demeanor.

“Well, well,” she let out in a caramel smooth voice. “I must say, I’m surprised to see that you’re still alive.” A glacier blue eye winked, long black lashes kissing the top of her cheek momentarily. “And working at a bar… did they kick you out of the game for missing one too many targets?” Her tone was playfully sharp, suddenly taken back to the person she used to be when she was at the height of her criminal career – to when she was an arms dealer with unrivaled expertise in explosives, marksmanship and precision driving. She was amusingly tart, often rude to a fault and it didn’t change in the presence of someone she knew to someone she’d just met. “I hope you’re a better bartender than contractor,” another wink. “A triple vodka on the rocks.”

[outlaw-lawyer]

[outlaw-lawyer]

Pulling the freshly made drink towards him, Beau brought it to his lips. “Actually,” he said, the liquid rejuvenating him once more. “I came here for the alcohol as well. Granted, it doesn’t hurt that there’s women around.” His lips tugged into a smirk. “Besides,” he began. “It’s not a mistake if I fully intend on doing it.” Looking back towards the blonde he’d been eyeing before, he studied her for a moment. With a pair of green eyes and mile long legs, he guessed her to be around twenty four. Good age. Tearing his gaze away from her, Beau turned back towards the woman beside him, amused. “Well, she’s certainly not off the list.” He admitted.

Having been raised without a mother, Beau had never been the perfect gentleman towards women. Roughened by his father and military life itself, he wasn’t one for romantic gestures or grandiose displays of love. Instead, Beau preferred to keep his love life as simple as he could in the form of various “hit it and quit it” types. Of course, there were times when women would try to get him to stay or have breakfast but Beau would have none of it. That was the thing: he never wanted more. For whatever reason, Beau lacked the capacity to desire something better than a one-night stand. It wasn’t so much that no woman captivated him enough but because Beau knew what more entailed. It meant opening up— sharing— pouring your heart out. And that turned him off to the entire idea. It was near physically impossible for him to even think about telling someone every dark thing inside him so he’ll stick to his one night-stands, thank you very much.

Surprised by her blunt question, Beau leaned back. “Trying to figure her out.” He replied. “I don’t want to take home some clingy sorority member. That’s a type of bullshit I don’t want to deal with tonight.” Taking another swig of his drink, he stole a glance at the blonde. She certainly seemed normal. He turned back towards his companion. “And while I could get her in the backseat of my car without so much of a bat of my eyelashes, what’s the fun in that?” He countered. “It’s all about the game.” Beau knew how it’d go down. Having done it countless times before, he could already imagine it. He’d walk up to her, she’d be surprised yet flattered, her friends would giggle and he’d engage her in some banter. After a couple minutes, he’d have her right where he wanted her and after buying her a drink or two, the deal was done. All in less than hour, might he add.

Noting she had already finished her drink, Beau was slightly impressed by her alcohol tolerance. The only women he knew who could finish off such a vodka so quickly without so much as a pause of distaste were those in the military. Clearly, she was no virgin to alcohol. He wondered for a moment if perhaps she was connected to the military. She certainly had the demeanor and look for it— short haired with a cruel beauty to boot. Regardless, Beau knew this was a woman he’d have more trouble lying to than others and he respected that. At least, a little bit. “And you?” He asked. “No man catch your eye yet or am I the only one?”

She was three drinks down and while there was warmth fluttering about in the pit of her stomach, the redhead was yet to feel anything slight of disappointingly sober. Although, her favorite thing about vodka was its strange ability to kick in right after you’d drank just that bit too much; one moment you were fine and the next you were on your ass in the corner.  Waving the bartender down for another of what she’d already had, she tilted her head in amusement at his answer. There was something strikingly different about him; he didn’t have the demeanor of a man that slept around for the sake of numbers. “It’s only a mistake the morning after when they want coffee and breakfast.” Her eyes flickered a daring look his way before leaning back on her stool slightly to achieve a better look at the young blonde he’d been eyeing off. She was attractive in a typical sort of way, sweet face and long legs that were barely covered with a clingy dress. Glancing back to the man beside her with a smirk of amusement and a raised brow, she shrugged. “She’s alright; long legs and a dress that’d be easy enough to whip off, should you wish.”

Raisie wasn’t a typically shy or coy sort of woman. Sex meant little more to her than instant gratification and she couldn’t say she’d held a stable relationship past a few weeks in all her years. For the most part, she didn’t hold that need to settle down with someone. Children had always been off the cards for her due to her often-reckless lifestyle and thankfully due to her childhood bounding around between foster homes, she’d never learned to form attachments. It wasn’t something she considered a negative side effect to her personality, in fact, she reveled in her obvious difference to other women. Of course, it often affected her ability to form friendships, so she’d become accustomed to being alone and protecting no one but herself.

The flicker of surprise across his face amused her some as her long, nimble fingers wrapped around the upper part of her glass and bought it to her lips. The ice cubes clinked together with the movement of the liquid as he spoke. He seemed to hold a lot of the standards that she did when seeking out a relationship; that being that it would last all of a few hours with no reconnection in the plan. At the mention of her possibly being clingy, Raisie managed a look of gentle disgust to flicker through her eyes as her glass reunited with the solid counter of the bar. “If they’re not happy to gather their clothes and leave before sunrise, it isn’t worth the sex. Although maybe your vital mistake is taking them back to your house, then they know where you live, and you can’t exactly pick up and leave your own home.” His sureness of his ability to pick up any woman was interesting, although she agreed he’d most likely not have any issues with the twenty-something’s. Cocking a brow as she turned to face him a little, her leg crossed over the other and her ankles hooked together on the bottom prong of her stool. “Personally, I think the game is over-rated when there’s no challenge involved.” There was another suggestive smirk and entertainment swirling through the blue of her eyes.

When his attention turned to her, her head tipped back slightly with a melodic laugh of amusement. It wasn’t a schoolgirl giggle; she was much too old and far too experienced to feel intoxicated by his strong face and impressive physique. “You’re rather sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Her words fell from her dark lips, coated in laughter as she leaned back slightly. With bottom lip captive by white teeth, she made a point to run piercing ocean eyes from his face, down his frame and back up. “Darling, if you’d caught my eye for anything more than a spare seat by the alcohol, we’d already be outside pressed against the brick of this fine establishment.” A flicker of cruel amusement ran across her irises before she gathered her glass and tilted her head back with the remainder of vodka.

It seemed slightly obvious to her that he’d served in the armed forces, and for a moment she wondered if it were a mistake on her part even conversing with him considering her criminal history and her cut ties with the Irish mob in Boston. She’d spent most of her twenties as an arms dealer and although it had been some time since she’d engaged in any serious criminal behavior, it didn’t stop her from sleeping with a 9mm Beretta under her pillow. It seemed foolish on her part to continue their conversation, but the vodka had managed to lower her inhibitions slightly. “So, Mr. Military. Navy or Army?” Her words came out with a smirk of dark lips; her head tilting slightly as silky red tresses framed her face.

[beina-deactivated20260214]

[outlaw-lawyer]

The signs of a sleepless night were etched on Beau’s features. With red-rimmed eyes, he’d gone through his day in a dreamlike state— awake but not entirely conscious. It was a condition he was all too familiar with. Another effect of war, he liked to call it. Of course, this self-knowledge did little to remove the fatigue from his chiseled face or smooth his frayed emotions but it was a step towards recovery. Or so, they said. By the time the day came to a swirling end, Beau had resolved himself to the idea of alcohol. It was a dangerous resolution but one that promised a few hours of peace and, if done correctly, a sleep void of bloody, bullet-riddled memories.

Tugging on a black sweater over his collared shirt, Beau regarded himself in the mirror. A reflection of messy, disheveled curls— military crew cut long abandoned— and cold, tired heterochromatic eyes stared back. It was clear that his subpar feelings were showing in is physical appearance and that bothered him. Even his skin looked different, the glow of youth replaced by a pale hue. With a sigh, Beau decided it was as good as it would get and grabbed his coat. He was determined to cleanse himself of the plaguing sensation that had wrapped itself around him all day— whether in the form of a drink or the lips of some leggy twenty something.

Seated at the bar, Beau nursed the drink in front of him. Now on his second, his mood had substantially improved and he was feeling much more himself. His body had relaxed into its normal state of easy confidence, the heaviness of the earlier hours of the day falling away with each sip. Focusing on the crowd of the room, he searched the place for a familiar face. Finding none, he switched his focus to finding a distraction. Setting his eyes on a pretty blonde not too far from him, he began to think up a plan. He hadn’t had a one-night stand in a while and it’d be nice to lose himself in something— or someone— for a bit. Before he could get far in his endeavor to think of a way to approach her, however, he was distracted by the presence of yet another woman.

Looking at her, Beau was momentarily distracted by her features. With scarlet hair and a neckline that dipped low, it was hard not to do so. However, what caught his attention most was her demeanor. Trained in the military to study and observe, he picked up on something colder about her. Hand indicating to the seat, he shook his head. “All yours.” Finishing off the rest of his drink, he caught the bartender before he left and ordered another one. Picking up on the redhead’s disinterest, he was therefore surprised when she struck up a conversation. Shrugging, Beau grinned. “Depends on the person.” He told her. “Some sulk in the corner while others are on a mission to make mistakes. And of course, you’ve got the few who just came here for the alcohol.” Beau studied her for a moment. “I’m thinking you belong to the last class.”

It wasn’t until she was seated beside him that she’d chanced a glance at something more than the back of his head. His jawline was strong, chiseled and sharp and his hair was dark and curled. While his skin was pale with what Raisie was willing to bet was exhaustion, his eyes were piercing and perhaps softer than they normally were with the effects of alcohol. It would be foolish of her to deny that he was attractive, but flashing memories of a similarly striking face contorted with the terrors of an over dose was enough to change her thought process. As if to dissolve the thoughts fluttering through her mind, the nightmares that were starting to seep into her day life, the redhead tossed back the contents of her cup, ice cubes clanging against glass as the vodka burnt a track down her throat and warmed her stomach.

Long plum colored nails raked through her short bob, tucking stray strands behind her ear before waving down the bartender and ordering another triple. She could smell the vodka on her breath as she cleared her throat and readjusted herself on her stool. She felt almost uncomfortable under his gaze as he took a moment to study her, and she shifted again as her hand went back to her newly replenished glass and danced the tip on her index finger languidly around the rim. He’d decided that she was here to enjoy the alcohol, and Raisie was impressed with his ability to read people, although she supposed her proverbial cold shoulder may have given it away.

Tipping her glass in his direction, she took another sip before letting out a wide smile, dark red lips parting in amusement. “Right you are,” she declared with a hint of laughter hanging from her words. “It’s all about the booze. Although I’d be willing to bet you belong to the former category. Out to make some mistakes… perhaps with that cute blonde at the other end of the bar?” Both her profession and her childhood had afforded her skills that not everyone had, the most useful perhaps being her ability to read those around her. That, and admittedly she’d seen him eyeing her upon her entry.

Raisie relaxed slightly in her spot, another long sip emptying half her glass as the music hummed in the background. Her thin shoulders dropped some; her posture not as perfectly straight as it had been when she walked in, as if she’d relaxed into her present company with the help of her drink. With another soft smirk and a glance his way, she tapped a nail on the counter. “So what’s stopping you? I’m sure one flash of whatever you have hiding under that shirt could pick you up any young thing.” Her large blue eyes danced in amusement as she finished off the remainder of clear liquid in front of her. Her constant consumption of anything alcoholic had left her with an immunity of sorts, which Raisie was beginning to see as more of a weakness than a strength, especially when all she was craving was an outlet to forget the thoughts that plagued her.

[outlaw-lawyer]

On the scale of not great to absolutely disastrous, her day hadn’t faired particularly well. In fact, the entire three weeks she’d spent in this new town had left a lot to be desired, but Raisie wasn’t willing to let it taint her opinion of her new living quarters just yet. The town in question – Northpoint – was a serene place like that from a postcard and her apartment was close enough by the city center that getting to work was suddenly a lot less of an ordeal than it had been in New York. The nightlife was decidedly subpar, although she had made an effort to reduce her alcohol consumption after her all too terrifying realization in New York. Her wine rack had managed to remain empty for the three weeks since her arrival, but after the day she’d had there was no doubt in Raisie’s mind that it was about to change.

She’d spent very little time getting ready, stepping out of the tight restraints of her professional attire and slipped into a figure-hugging mid-thigh length royal blue dress. The neckline dipped dangerously low considering her profession, and the back of the dress was considerably bare; soft material wrapping around her shoulders before opening in a wide circle that ended at her lower back. Shoulder length dark red hair was styled in loose curls and tucked behind her ear as she grabbed a usual pair of tall black heels and ventured from the house. Ready for a night out on the town, Raisie quickly discovered that her options were rather limited, and after a few moments discussion with the cab driver, they settled on a rustic styled bar on the edge of the city center; The Drunken Sailor.

The bar in question was unlike her usual dwelling places. The floorboards were dark and scuffed, sticky with the residue of alcohol. The plain dark walls peeled with the bitter smell of stale beer and the bar itself seated a small collection of hunched men and women in short dresses with brightly colored cocktails in hand. The music was soft and old, drawling from a 70's-esque worn juke box in the corner by the restroom signs. Raisie tucked a loose strand of blood red hair behind a sun kissed ear, large cerulean eyes scanning the unimpressive room before spotting an empty bar stool, tucked in between a wall and a man with broad shoulders and strong arms. Her current position didn't afford her a view of his face, but she'd decided early on that she was here with the soul mission of getting drunk and nothing else. The men of this small town seemed rather unimpressive at this point anyway.

Approaching the stool with a familiar clink of her tall heels, Raisie placed one hand on the bar, long slender fingers stretching out as the plum of her nails tapped on the wood to gain his attention. With lashes lowered, she glanced at the empty seat before looking back to him. The redhead didn't bother with pleasantries, at this point a smile was far too much effort. "Is this seat taken?" Were the words that left her mouth, tart and direct and entirely uninterested in forming an acquaintance. With a flick of her wrist, she gained the attention of the bartender and promptly ordered her drink of choice; a triple shot of vodka over ice. Once seated, she crossed one leg over the other and flickered her gaze from the drink in front of her to the male beside her. Still reasonably uninterested in striking up a conversation, Raisie couldn't let the formality of manners slip through the cracks. With a softer tone and a slight drop in her façade, the redhead ran her index finger along the rim of her glass. "Thank you, by the way. I sense this isn't the sort of bar you come to when you want to talk - or be seated close to, for that matter - other people."

[outlaw-lawyer]

It was colder than she would have preferred. Having recently arrived from a tropical environment, the redhead had become accustomed to the harsh beating rays of sun, even though she’d spent more than ten of her years braving the arctic coldness of New York. Tugging her knee length coat tighter around her tall, slender frame, Raisie gathered the few stacks of bursting manila folders from the passenger seat of her car and walked with a familiar clink of stiletto heels toward the opening brick arch of Northpoint’s 4th precinct. The overcast and particularly unpleasantly cool day marked her third week in the supposedly sunny city of Northpoint, Maine, and while she had originally fled her favorite city in order to reevaluate her life and deal with her idiosyncrasies – particularly her addictive personality – it hadn’t taken her long to seek out the distraction of employment. It had been remarkably good timing on her part, accepting and stepping quickly into the position of Assistant District Attorney for Northpoint’s Homicide unit after a rather speedy transfer of their previous ADA. Raisie had accepted the opportunity as just that, and didn’t bother wasting anyone’s time with frivolous questions or water cooler gossip. She was far too antisocial for that.

Taking the elevator up to the third floor, Raisie was surprised at just how busy the small precinct seemed to be. Notably it was nothing compared to New York, but the open plan room she was currently standing in the middle of the doorway of was bustling with men and women in pantsuits, guns holstered at hips and badges either hung around necks on silver chains or clipped to belts. Desks centered the room in pairs, sturdy oak structures that housed an array of picture frames, littered paperwork and old food wrappings. While she was impressed with the size of the department, Raisie was irritably unimpressed with the fact that she’d been left standing in the open archway, thin but deceivingly strong arms piled with spilling files. Realizing quickly that no one was going to offer to lighten her load, she approached the nearest occupied desk, where a tall burly man sat hunched over something in front of him. His hair was an odd mix of blonde and brown, forming a sort of mousey brown color. It dusted the top of his head and crept down the sides of his jaw to wrap around his chin and upper lip in an overgrown sort of five o’clock shadow. Raisie would hate to admit that he was rather aesthetically pleasing.

The stack hit the solid desk with a thwack and the fiery redhead raised a manicured brow as she awaited the attention of the detective before her. When she finally held his piercing blue gaze, she held out a barely welcoming hand and didn’t bother straining for a smile. Her hair sat dead straight and barely reaching her shoulders in a short, wild read bob that framed her long sun kissed face. Her eyes were large and doe round, a striking cerulean blue that frowned with a sort of frustration and trouble. “I’m your new ADA.” With hand still outstretched, she cocked another brow. “Raisie Millen. The DA wanted me to bring these over for a few signatures from a,” she paused to look down at the top folder. Technically, she should have memorized the name in an effort to appear more prepared. “Detective Caulfield.” She finished, voice gravely and to the point. The redhead left no room for misinterpretation; it was her job after all. “Where might I find them?”

[beina-deactivated20260214]